


Boomerang

by yeaka



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Massage, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 19:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10472721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ravio renders more aid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay I’m totally into Ravio.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Legend of Zelda or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Welcome back,” he greets, as cheery as he can. He doesn’t have to lift his hood to know who’s slipped through the door or to guess why he doesn’t get an answer. Stepping back into his shop, Ravio gestures to the last item left—except, of course, for the sand rod, still rudely unreturned, even after Sheerow’s relentless search. “There’s still the hammer, Mr. Hero! For you, it’s a bargain!”

He gets a withered sigh in response. It’s more than usual, and he tilts his head just enough to peek at his client’s posture—sure enough, Link’s slumping over. He looks thoroughly exhausted, bruised in a few places, muddy here and there. A pang of sympathy goes off in Ravio’s chest, but he has no skill with healing. Items are the best he can do. He offers slowly, “Well, for you, maybe an even bigger bargain? Say... four hundred rupees?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Instead, Link flops onto the floor, dropping right to the wood like a bag of bricks. It gives Ravio a nasty start, and he jumps back by instinct. It’s much nicer here than he’s used to, but old habits die hard. It occurs to him belatedly that Link might not need any items at all—maybe after a hard run out saving the world, he just wants _rest_.

And Ravio, selfish as always, took over his house and threw out his bed. Glancing at one of the table cloths over the stands, Ravio ponders aloud, “’Guess I could rig you up a little nest out of blankets or something. Sorry about that... I really am grateful for your house, you know.”

He catches the movement of Link’s flicked hand in his peripherals. Link’s been absurdly nice about it. Easily the best person Ravio’s ever met. Easily the kindest, cutest, bravest... and Ravio still pumps him for rupees after tossing out his furniture.

Sheerow gives a forlorn little squawk, and Ravio mutters sideways to her, “I know, I know...”

Then he exclaims, “I know!” and scrambles over to where Link’s sitting. He plops right down behind where Link’s sitting, positive that Link’s glanced back to look at him. He still doesn’t lift his hood, even though he’s positive by now that Link would never betray his identity. It’s become a force of habit, and in a way, it veils his shame. He flexes his fingers and stares at Link’s middle back, explaining, “How about I give you a massage, buddy? Free of charge, of course!”

He can’t see Link’s expression, but he can read the rest of Link’s body language well enough, and Link hesitantly shrugs. He’s probably never had a proper massage before, poor guy—too busy off saving the kingdom. It’s the least Ravio can do. He squares both hands on Link’s shoulders and turns them minutely, putting Link in the right position, and Link slumps in resignation. 

Ravio, without mentioning how thick and counterproductive Link’s tunic is, sets to work. He presses his palms right into Link’s shoulder blades, rolls them in little circles, and withdraws to knead the tender flesh beneath his fingertips.

In a heartbeat, Link’s more relaxed than Ravio’s ever seen him— _felt him_ —although Ravio hasn’t been fortunate enough to try this before. He thinks of adding this to the shop’s services, perhaps for a modest fee, free only for this one special customer. He has no formal training, but he’s worked out enough of his own aches to have some practice. Link doesn’t seem to have any complaints. The more Ravio works his tired body, the more he sinks into Ravio’s hands. He occasionally lets out ragged sighs and short hitches of breath—even rarer, a small gasp of encouragement.

Even when it’s gone on for some time and Ravio’s arms are growing tired, he finds it enjoyable. There’s something that feels so fulfilling about satisfying this world’s true hero. It’s the least he can do. Link’s a grateful customer. Link’s a gracious host. He melts in Ravio’s arms, until his weight finally releases, and Ravio realizes with a start that his beloved buddy’s fallen straight asleep.

He moves his arms and lets Link’s heavy frame rest against him. Link’s head lolls back onto his shoulder, eyes peacefully closed and breathing steady and even. Link looks like he’s having neutral dreams, which is probably better than his reality. 

Ravio pets idly through his golden hair and plays pillow while he sleeps, keeping a protective eye over all the worlds’ greatest hero.


End file.
